


Can't Shake This Fever From My Mind

by one_day_sooner



Series: Love tattoo [3]
Category: Band AU - Fandom, Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_day_sooner/pseuds/one_day_sooner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kaner isn't doing any better than Johnny at dealing, and it turns out, Johnny can sing too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Shake This Fever From My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so if there's mistakes, point them out please.

Patrick wasn't faring much better than Johnny. He pushed his body hard, hoping the burn of newly built muscle would replace the ache he felt when he stopped and thought about the last six months. Johnny with his stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid sleeve of tattoos up and down his stupid, perfect arms. Arms that Patrick loved waking up in, loved feeling wrap around his waist, loved watching move as Johnny spun his bass or played, his smile bright under the hot lights. 

He came back to training camp sufficiently bigger, Sharpy raising both eyebrows nearly into his perfect hairline and Seabs taking a stride back to look him over better. Shawsy skated up and whistled lowly. "Holy shit Kaner. Having a boyfriend did you wonders this offseason." 

"Hey Shaw, we should go skate warmups over there, huh?" Duncs said, catching the young player by the sleeve and tugging him away before the murderous look in Kaner's eyes could translate to a bloody mess on the ice and another rookie on the team. 

"When did you guys break up?" Sharpy asked quietly, his hand on Kaner's elbow and his usually mocking eyes serious. 

"Fuck. That obvious, huh?"

"I know you Peeks. Besides you almost murdered Shawsy with your eyeballs. When did you two break it off?"

"When I found out he'd been drafted but never bothered to show up for camp." Patrick spit, shoving Sharpy away. "Now fuck off the questions for a minute. We gotta get in character."

Patrick played his heart out in camp, so exhausted by the end of each day he didn't think of anything but crawling into bed and crashing out. He kept it up straight through the preseason until a hit from fucking Kesler of all people in the game before the home opener left him seeing stars and the inside of the locker room halfway through the second. 

"You're done for tonight, Kane. Sleep it off. I'll see you back here to see if you're ok for practice."

"But..." 

"But nothing, Kane. Home. Sleep. I'll even call a cab for you, cause I'm not letting you drive and crash into an El train or some shit."

Patrick gave the trainer a dirty look, but relented when even that made him a little dizzy. He went to his stall and changed out of his pads, wandering aimlessly into the showers. 

By the time Patrick was dressed and ready, the trainer was gone and in his place was a perky little blonde he was used to seeing behind a microphone perched on the exam table and not looking up from her baby pink nails as he entered. 

"Frankie what the hell are you doing here? This is a locker room. A MEN'S locker room."

"Weh-hell, sugar dumplin' I don't see no men here, do you?" She slipped off the table and pushed Patrick down onto a chair. "Didn't think so. Now. Shut up and listen to me. My baby Johnny has been twelve kinds of fucked up since you up and left him this summer over a damn jersey." Patrick opened his mouth and she fixed him with a glare. "I know what it means. I know what it was. What you don't know is why he isn't right here right now doing what I'm gonna do.  Come on. I'll take you home. "

Patrick had no choice but to follow her, his jaw dropping when she stepped up to a bright red Thunderbird and hopped over the side before she leaned over and unlocked Patrick's door. She waited until he was inside the car before driving off, only letting him speak until he'd told her the address she was taking him to. She held him silent, turning on the radio and flipping around until she found the Underground Garage and turned it up, gathering her thoughts as she made the drive to his building. 

"Listen. Just look up the University of North Dakota dorm fire, ok?  We don't talk about it but it's something you need to know."

"How is that gonna help?"

"Just fucking do it, Rick. You may get it."

******

Patrick started up his laptop and started a search, not even sure why he was listening to a crazy broad in a killer car. He poured through old North Dakota stories, Johnny on his college hockey team, smiling and shooting pucks at the South Dakota goalie. He typed in "University of North Dakota Dorm Fire" and began reading. 

"October 18, 2006

UND's Smith hall was burned nearly to the ground late yesterday in one of the most intense blazes in campus history. No lives were lost, and there were very few injuries, thanks in part to the bravery of the first responders and UND's own Jonathan Toews. 

The junior helped his classmates out of the building, going back time and again to help bring people out. 

Toews is in the hospital in serious but stable condition, and the cause of the fire is under investigation.

\- Michael Daily"

"November 14, 2006

With the hockey season well underway, the UND Fighting Sioux are sorely missing their star forward (and Chicago Blackhawks draftee), junior Jonathan Toews. The Sioux have gone 4-3-3 in their last ten without Toews who was injured when he leapt from a window in Smith hall after the stairway collapsed.

Get well soon, Jonathan. UND needs you.

\- Timothy L. Oshie"

"Fucking OSHIE knew him?  I hate that douche even more now." Patrick muttered, looking through more and more articles calling Johnny a hero, a saint, everything but a hockey player. He looked through the athletics site and found the stats for Johnny, frozen in his sophomore year, the serious looking boy in a suit so far removed from the lazy smiled man with slicked up hair and crisply cuffed jeans. 

Patrick called the owners, because fuck what time it was. He barely waited until they answered before he bit out his question. "Why didn't Jonathan Toews start training after he was drafted?"

"Hello Patrick. Ah, Toews. That's a name I haven't heard in a while. He had a pretty bad injury while in school. Shattered his femur and left hip, dislocated his shoulder in some stunt he pulled at a dorm. We couldn't take the chance on a loose cannon like that, Patrick. Not with you coming in next."

"You fucking DICK! He saved all those people and you ditched him!" Patrick yelled, hanging up and breathing harder than if he'd just pulled a double shift on a penalty kill versus the Flyers. He slid down against the wall and for the first time since he left Johnny, let himself cry. 

******

"Well now, all my handsome devils and pretty little angels, I'm gonna step aside for a moment and let my Johnny boy sing you one." She offered a wink to the crowd and mouthed "Ladies room" at the boys. 

Johnny opened his mouth at the singer in her angel wings and halo, shaking his head and grinning a little behind his zombie makeup. He tapped her mic and brought it up to a reasonable height for himself, coughing slightly. "She only looks like an angel, believe me," he quipped, readjusting the height. "This song is by another band but I thought y'all would like it. It means a lot to me. Here goes."

He began to play, a few notes into the song joined by the drums and guitar. When he sang his voice was soft but strong, plucking at strings and sliding his fingers along a slim neck. 

"And in the darkest hour of night  
Moments before sleep comes  
And dreams come into sight  
Just know that you were on my mind  
And through the darkness my love shines."

Johnny held the last note of the song, blushing a little as Frankie came back out, planting a kiss on his cheek. "How 'bout my Johnny boy huh?"

Johnny shook his head and laughed, lifting her off the floor like he did when he was more embarrassed than mad. When he finally set her down, he noticed a waitress in a Playboy Bunny costume with a beer, a highball glass and two bright blue drinks with umbrellas and fruit sticking out of them. Frankie walked over and handed out the drinks.  Johnny's mouth fell open when he saw the note on his napkin, just two words in Kaner's messy scrawl: "I'm sorry."

Johnny read it and looked up, desperate to see even the slightest sign of Patrick and swearing into the air at the number of costumes and painted faces.  "Kaner if you're here..." he said into the mic, his eyebrows coming together. "If you're here come up here." 

Johnny tried not to look heartbroken when after a few minutes, there was still no Patrick. He set his glass down without taking a sip and went back to playing. 

******

Kaner took a hard hit into the boards, his face slamming into the glass and his nose beginning to bleed. Couture went off for five, jawing the entire way. The Blackhawks best unit went out on the ice for the major penalty and Kaner sat jumpy in the locker room getting his face tended to. Three minutes into the power play, Sharpy netted a clean shot past Niemi, his cheering stuck in his throat when he saw Johnny walking back to his usual seat after Patrick was off the bench, the one that had sat empty the entire season so far. Johnny was wearing a black shirt and leather jacket, his eyes scanning the bench and looking a little more than disappointed Patrick wasn't there. 

Sharpy raised a glove to Johnny and turned to him when he got back to the bench, miming Kaner getting shoved into the boards and taken off the ice. He'd have laughed at the horrified look on Johnny's face but he was set to be back on the ice himself. 

The Hawks went on to win, 6-4, Kaner with a beautiful pass to Shaw for the eventual game winner, but the Blackhawks had definitely seen better nights. Seabs had taken a puck to the thigh that left him howling in pain and Thornton pretty much leveled Hoss midway through the third. The locker room was exhausted but happy, ready for a couple of days off to lick their wounds before flying to New York. Sharpy clapped Patrick on the back and gave him a half hug as he undressed, hair sweaty and body tired. 

"Hey Peeks. I know you're burnt but you should come out with Duncs, Seabs and me. We're gonna have a few drinks then head home for a nice rest."

"I'm not really feeling it, Sharpy. My face is killing me."

"Your face has been killing me for years. Come on Peekaboo. Let's go."

"Seriously, fuck you. Ugh, fine. Let me get dressed." 

Sharpy looked pleased and walked off, leaving Patrick stripped down to his boxers and staring at his gear, looking at the emptying locker room and wondering what it would be like if Johnny was standing near him, what stall he'd be in, if he'd have a letter at all. Patrick tried to imagine Johnny's voice coming from the robotic looking boy he'd seen on the web page and couldn't do it. He began to strip everything he knew away, replacing it with the hard work he saw Johnny pour into his music, a serious mouth, almost angry eyes, his tone telling everyone to be better even as he said "Good job out there, guys." Patrick didn't know why, but he didn't like that. He liked his Johnny. The one who laughed at his stupid jokes and carded fingers through messy curls carelessly. The one who held his hand at bars and clubs and who would play for Patrick when he was on a long road stretch and missed him. 

"Fuck I miss him," Patrick whispered to himself before he got up to shower. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Cupid's victim" by Tiger Army.
> 
> The song Johnny plays is "Through the Darkness" also by Tiger Army  
> (lyrics video here: http://t.co/8R82Nke) which should totally be listened to for "Oh Johnny!" reasons


End file.
